


Late night visits

by Mywritingcorner



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood mentioned, Caring Reader, F/M, Falling asleep on the couch, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, It's innocent, Kinda?, Mention of drug dealing, Pre-Apocalypse, Sassy Reader, late night visits, nothing too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mywritingcorner/pseuds/Mywritingcorner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everytime Daryl can't put up with his father anymore and has no place to stay he winds up at your door. Tonight is no different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late night visits

The clouds that were currently hanging over Atlanta were thick like the blanket that was wrapped around you as you watched a re-run of one of your favorite tv shows. You clasped the mug of hot chocolate in your hands to keep them warm as the drumming on the window got louder for a few moments.   
"Even for February it's way too cold," you thought as you turned down the volume of your tv a bit so you could just fall asleep and wouldn't be woken up should there be any overly loud parts. You put your mug down and snuggle more into the blanket. It didn't take long until you drifted off into a light sleep.   
A few hours later you got pulled out of your dream by the doorbell. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and paused the tv before you went to answer the door, still snuggled in your blanket. A neighbor having themself locked out and wanting to call someone, an old "friend" of your father that didn't knew he wasn't living here anymore or even the police wouldn't surprise you. But Daryl Dixon, soaked to the bone with a bloody lip and slightly shivering? Yeah, that was surprising. Before he could say anything you opened up the door and almost pulled him inside before closing it again.   
"You wanna tell me what happened?" You knew he didn't like to talk about certain topics ... mostly involving his private life outside of your apartment.   
At least without a few bottles of beer. Or Jack Daniel's. It depended on how much his brother was involved.   
He grunted and followed you into the bathroom, even though he could find his way through your apartment blindly by now.   
With the second toothbrush, the sweatpants and t-shirt that both were too big for you in your closet and too many blankets, pillows and towels for one person he practically lived here anyway.   
As you rummaged through your cabinet you didn't noticed that he was watching you while he pulled the blanket that you threw over him on the way here tighter around himself. Just as you turned towards him he looked away, trying to seem as if he didn't just watched you as you walked over to him.   
By now this was a routine for you both; Daryl came to you late at night, most of the time some degree of beaten up, sat on the edge of your bathtub as you cleaned up his wounds as best as you could.   
He'd sleep on your couch and either be gone the next morning or he would stay for a few days.   
There was no in between.   
He closed his eyes as you started to clean the split lip with a cotton and antiseptics. You may have taken a second or two longer than needed just to appreciate the view and feel of his tilted back head that was currently leaning into your touch. "I can't give you a band aid so ... just try to not mess it up more and be careful," you told him as you straightened up and threw the cotton away.   
There it was, one of his rare smiles.   
You smiled back at him and left the bathroom, taking the blanket with you, for him to take a shower after a quietly grunted "thanks" from him. As always you went to fetch him the sweatpants and a shirt, replaced his clothes that were scattered over the bathroom floor -you lost count on how many times you told him to at least throw them in one place- and put them in the washing mashine. If no one else would take care of him then it had to be you. It was the best way to thank him you knew without making a fool out of yourself. Giftcards, flowers and chocolate weren't really appropriate to thank someone for taking a bullet for you ... well "luckily" it were fists and not bullets. Although there was one time where Daryl came to you with his brother Merle who got a bullet in his after about an hour of you both cursing at each other you got the bullet out. After another hour of "If you don't shut up now I'll put it back in!" and his whining about how you would intentionally make it hurt more you got him stiched up and thrown out of your apartment. Daryl looked almost embarrassed about his brother and thanked you with a tiny side-hug.   
Wille you silently laughed to yourself you cleaned up the living room a little. Just as you were about to plump up the pillows Daryl walked in, wet hair, towel in one hand and two beers in the other and spread out on the couch.   
"Here," he said as he made room and held out a beer for you. You gladly took both, beer and a seat, and un-paused the tv. From beside you came a groan and Daryl started complain about already having seen that show... twice by now. Chuckling you threw a pillow at him which he caught and threw back at you.   
A few episodes and beers later both of you have scooted close enough so your head was resting on his shoulder and he leant against you as he snored lightly. After half an episode your eyes dropped and you also fell asleep.   
A heartbeat. That was the first thing you heard the next morning. Still mostly asleep you debated with yourself if you should either look who's it was or enjoy the warmth that radiated off of the body that was pressed against you. Slowly you remembered last night. The storm, the show re-run and ... Daryl.   
Cuddling with Daryl, the man you've fantasized about for more than three years? Great.  
The embarrassment the next morning? Not so much.   
Slowly and carefully you lifted your head.  
He was still asleep.   
Relieved you exhaled and tried to get up before you noticed his hands on your back and the small of your back. After some careful maneuvering you were standing beside the couch and he still slept.   
Hopefully you wouldn't have to talk about the cuddling when he woke up.   
Raindrops still drummed against the windows as you made your way to the kitchen to make breakfast.   
You decided on eggs and bacon. Fast and simple. You yawned and rubbed your eyes as the stove heated up.   
"Mornin'," came from behind you in a gruff voice. Even more gruff than normally. "Morning, more eggs or bacon?" You asked him cheerfully as you put both in the pan and he sat on the counter beside you. "Bacon," he answered after thinking for a second. You nodded and turned the eggs over.   
"Make yourself useful and set the table," you told him as the bacon started to sizzle and you started the coffee machine. It wasn't long before you both sat at the table and continued your comfortable silence. He ate and you watched him as you drank your coffee. For about two or three minutes that worked out well. That was until he commented it.  
"Can you stop staring at me? It's distracting," he grumbled.   
"Can you stop having a cute face? It's distracting," you answered him. He sighed, rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the little smile that came over his lips.   
"C'mon, I told you to stop calling me or my face cute," he said, his southern accent very prominent.   
You laughed and answered: "And I told you to stop to just throw your clothes around in the bathroom. But do you stop? No."   
You gave him a slight nudge with your foot as he fell silent looked away. "Hey, don't even pull that 'looking down in shame like a puppy' shit on me," you told him before you both laughed. And as he looked up again and your eyes met you knew; maybe your dad being a drug dealer, having more drunken one night stands than sober kisses and having to clean up after Daryl wasn't so bad after all. At least you were the one that made him smile and, at least you thought so, made him feel at home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my second fanfic! :D I'd love criticism and everything else you'd like to say ♡  
> Thanks for reading!


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